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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26195671">Invisible Falcon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaspoonofdoom/pseuds/teaspoonofdoom'>teaspoonofdoom</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Closeted Character, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Manipulation, Multi, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:42:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,268</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26195671</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaspoonofdoom/pseuds/teaspoonofdoom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Confusion washes over the woman's, <em>Kristen's</em>, features. She looks just like her. The only differences are the lack of glasses and the blond hair up-do. Her eyebrows knot the same way Kristen's used to, the smile lines are identical, the eye color matches, the nose shape-</p><p>"I'm sorry?" The voice is not right, though. Or Lee is forgetting what Kristen used to sound like.</p><p>"You just-" Lee's words choke her on the way out, "reminded me of somebody. My mistake. Sorry."</p><p>The woman nods with understanding, a kind smile stretches over her face again. Lee can't bear to look at it any longer.</p><p> </p><p>(check notes for an actual summary)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(these are the endgames basically), Carmine Falcone &amp; Sofia Falcone, Isabella/Leslie Thompkins, Mario Calvi &amp; Carmine Falcone, Mario Calvi &amp; Sofia Falcone, Mario Calvi/Jim Gordon, Oswald Cobblepot &amp; Leslie Thompkins, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Sofia's rom/sexual r-ships are sorta spoilers, but she's bi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. We'll keep it all behind closed doors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>a season 3 retelling with Sofia in Gotham with the rest of the Falcones, for the wedding of her deeply closeted brother Mario and his best friend Lee, who is the one to run into Isabella instead of Edward. What follows is a tad bit more natural reaction to her, plus an eventual explanation and a wlw romance you can root for. On the other hand, there is a version of what Oswald and Ed's relationship development could have been. Also, Lee and Jim dealing with their shared and respective traumatic experiences, while exploring their same-sex attraction and not going back to the mess that was their romantic relationship. Sofia (&amp; Mario) and Oswald (&amp; Ed) as friends, frienemies or enemies? A Lee-Oswald secret team-up! And a deep dive into the family dynamic of the Falcones...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I'm sorry for the delay. Gotham Friday nights keep us busy." Mario walks towards his patient, who is pressing a hand to the back of his head. "How're you feeling?"</p><p>"Uh. I'll be fine." The man sighs, looking nowhere in particular. His head must be throbbing at best, but to Mario, he seems more tired than in pain. Something not unusual for people in this city.</p><p>"Might want to take your shirt off." He turns away from the patient to get the equipment. "Don't want to bloody it up."</p><p>The man sighs a couple of more times as the shirt sleeves slip down his bare arms. Mario looks at his chart, reads his name and oh-</p><p>"James Gordon. The policeman?"</p><p>Gordon shrugs and offers a humorless smile.</p><p>"Used to be." Right, right. Bounty hunter now. Probably just this line of work has gotten him with a split head tonight.</p><p>"I don't need to tell you it's gonna hurt a little bit." Mario doubts this is a first. </p><p>He starts to clean the wound. Numbs the area. "There we go," shifts Gordon's head to take a closer look and make sure there are no foreign objects inside the cut. His gloved hand moves in the longer stands on the top of the head, and Mario ponders on that the hair at the back and the sides is short enough, shaving won't be needed.</p><p>"Lee speaks very highly of you," Mario utters as he pulls the edges of the cut together. Loops the thread through one of the sides and then the other. "I'm Mario, Lee's fiancé."</p><p>"That's nice of her," Gordon says after a brief pause. Mario ties a knot.</p><p>"Look, I can't know what it's been like for you. Going through all of..." Prison, separation, breaking them off. The <em>baby</em>. "...That. But I was there when Lee was dealing with it. And I've seen her trying very hard to heal. As much as she can."</p><p>Mario isn't really picking his words, more focused on his job. He had practiced what he'd say to Lee's ex once they inevitably met. It never occurred to him Gordon most likely hasn't thought about just that. And definitely wasn't expecting it right now.</p><p>"I won't cause a relapse if that's what you're implying." A defensive note finds its way into Gordon's tone. <em>Understandably.</em></p><p>"I'm not." Mario realizes he's not conveying what he wanted to. "But it's possible to happen to you as much as it is to her."</p><p>"Yeah, right." Gordon is even more taken aback by that. "I'm good."</p><p>"Okay." It's not Mario's business. Just because Lee has shared with him her experience and her worry over Jim's own recovery, or lack of, doesn't mean Mario has the right to get involved with <em>his</em> trauma. "So we're okay?"</p><p>"Sure. Why wouldn't we be? Me and Lee, both have moved on. I, uh, wish you two nothing but the best."</p><p>They exchange smiles, Jim's awkward and Mario's tentative, yet friendly.</p><p> </p><p>Lee is heading to the M.E. lab when she catches something, someone, with her peripheral vision. She stops and turns. In front of the observation room, leaning on the call board, is Edward Nygma.</p><p>"Dr. Thompkins," he smiles unpleasantly. "I had heard that you were back."</p><p>His lackadaisical tone and slow movements, off the wall and closer to where Lee's standing, remind her of a Collett's snake. Pitch black body sliding over, subtle shifting to the left and to the right, toxicity plain obvious in glassy eyes.</p><p>Early symptoms of the snake's venom include nausea, vomiting, abdominal pain, diarrhea and headache. Lee thinks of blood and tissue down her thighs, of hands around metal bars, of body parts in a suitcase.</p><p>"I'm so glad-"</p><p>Her fist connects with his jaw. The punch knocks his glasses clean off. Lee <em>hopes</em> they are somewhat damaged. Her voice is steadier than she thought it'd be when she says: "That's for Kristen."</p><p>And it is. But it also isn't.</p><p>"You shouldn't have done that." Edward is barely moving, Lee <em>knows</em> he's dying to rub at his chin. A reptile, stuck in the glass cage of social power play.</p><p>"Or what?" Lee grows more unimpressed by the second. "I'm supposed to be scared of you because you work for Penguin?"</p><p>Technically Penguin is the most powerful person in the city right now, but there have always been ways to kill someone if you really want to. And Edward is just the second-hand man.</p><p>"My fiancé's father is Carmine Falcone," Edward swallows down whatever he wants to say, not without trouble. "I as much as <em>whisper</em> to him, and you disappear."</p><p>Edward is completely unmoving. Taxidermied animal. Snake-skin boots.</p><p>"Tell the Mayor," Lee smiles, pleasantly, and taps his breast pocket, "whatever I can do as M.E., I'm happy to help."</p><p> </p><p>Sofia notices from behind the darkened car window Lee is flushed as she draws nearer, and it can't be because of the GCPD's stairs.</p><p>"Hey. How was work?"</p><p>"Hi." Lee breathes out and starts fussing with her handbag and coat. "Uh-"</p><p>"Stressful?"</p><p>"Mmm, a bit. Still trying to get back in the saddle."</p><p>"Oh, I know the feeling. Only quite literally." She didn't expect to miss her horses so much now that she had, well not everything she ever wanted, but a decent portion of it. Lee gives her a sympathetic smile. Frowns as the car comes to a halt.</p><p>"Hadn't realized it was this close to the GCPD, I could have just met you here."</p><p>"Don't be ridiculous." Sofia waves her off as they both exit the car and walk up to the tailor shop. "Do you have anywhere else to be before going home?"</p><p>"Don't think so. You?" </p><p>"Good evening, ladies." The receptionist chimes in as they enter. Sofia offers a nod and a brief smile, lets herself be led to the changing rooms as Lee trails behind, returning the greetings.</p><p>"I'll head to a pre-drink with some friends," Sofia is sure of the decline, but adds: "You're welcome to join me if you'd like."</p><p>"Oh, no. Not me, thank you, I've had my fair share of girls nights out by now." Sofia doesn't think Lee has gone out with any friends since they all moved back to Gotham. Fully embracing her role as the working wife whose social circle extends to just her hubby and in-laws. Not that Sofia blames her: this image would probably be the easiest to maintain.</p><p>"The real party is not girl-exclusive but... as you wish."</p><p>No response comes from the other changing room, so Sofia stops teasing (she had to anyway) and puts on the final product. She's quick to exit the room to look at herself in the bigger mirror and to compare her outfit with Lee's, but the latter hasn't shown herself yet. </p><p>In Sofia's opinion, the tailor has managed to pin down the way more innocent look with her fairly girly champagne-colored dress: it covers most of her thighs and cleavage, shows off her waist, and bares her upper back and arms.</p><p>"Knock, knock, you decent?" She raises her voice to coax Lee out of her changing room. </p><p>"Yeah, I just-"</p><p>"Come-oon, let me see."</p><p>"Here I come," she tries to crack a joke but there's a stain to her voice as she comes out and poses in front of the mirror. "Um, what do you think?"</p><p>"Wow," Sofia utters. Silk in a deep shade of red has embraced Lee's figure, the fit highlighting her curves, but remaining far from improper. Her hands map the fabric over her body, enjoying the feel of it, Sofia guesses until she sees Lee's expression in the mirror: eyebrows lightly knitted, lips pursing barely noticeable. She turns. Her face is virtually <em>begging</em> Sofia for an affirmation and, of course, she's going to deliver it. "You look great, that's what I think."</p><p>"Thank you, yours suits you too. It's just that-"</p><p>"That...?" </p><p>Lee opens her mouth a couple of times but is unable to form a coherent sentence. Sofia waits patiently, at first, offering only slow blinking and nods. Then, she clicks her tongue: "I got it. The look seems unfinished, right? Without make-up and a hairstyle, the dress is-"</p><p>"Too much, yes."</p><p>"Well, then let's get you a hairstylist and make-"</p><p>"No, no, that's- I'll just try and imagine it." Lee takes a few steps around, squinting her eyes, holding strands of her hair up in a bun to create a fancier silhouette. But her make-believe confidence doesn't last very long. "The dress is gorgeous. It looks okay on me, right?"</p><p>"Yes! But, look, if you don't <em>love</em> it, we can have it changed, like, immediately. It's no bother." Before Lee can protest, Sofia calls for the tailor: "Excuse me?" </p><p>"Oh, marvelous, ladies, you're stunning." He is, as if on clue, right by the door. Ostentatious clapping followed by a note of humble prudence. "Just my opinion, of course, what do you think? Do they feel alright?"</p><p>"They feel out of this world," Sofia responds, but tosses the ball to Lee, "at least mine does."</p><p>"Oh, I've definitely never worn anything like that before."</p><p>"You're the bride, correct? Come on, move around a bit." And she complies, giving a better impression of a happy customer. Perhaps she's already tricked into believing she is one. </p><p>Sofia follows her movements, taking note of the detail at the front of the dress, and what an allusion of a gift wrapped in rich paper it makes.</p><p> </p><p>"Having doubts?" Sofia asks when they're alone again, undressing.</p><p>Lee sighs.</p><p>"Hey, I just hope it's about the dress and not the marrying-my-brother part."</p><p>"No, I'm not back-pedaling on that. And the dress is beautiful, and I suppose it looks fine on me-"</p><p>"That's because it does."</p><p>"It's a bit too attention-seeking for my personal style- my personal <em>taste</em>."</p><p>"Lee, that's not right. The dress is <em>attention-grabbing</em>, as it should be. This is your engagement party, you have to be the star of the night."</p><p>"I know that. I'm just still getting used to it."</p><p>"Well, if you need someone to remind you to look fabulous and why I'm always here."</p><p> </p><p>After the tailor's shop, Sofia's in a hurry- to get home, change and get to her pre-drink -but Lee feels like taking a walk. Just a couple of blocks along the way and the third <em>happy</em> occurrence for the day happens. First, she feels a few drops on her face, one on the nose, another almost in her eye, two on her cheek. Then, she sees as millions of little dark dots cover the concrete below her feet.</p><p>She quickly searches her purse for an automatic umbrella but to no avail. Spots a grocery shop across the street. Fortunately, no car drives by her and through a road-hole-turned-puddle and sprinkles her with muddy rainwater.</p><p>Still, by the time she reaches the shop shade, wet strands of hair stick to her forehead and neck. With her hands, she shakes the water out of it as best as she can. Then pushes the glass door open, taking note of the shop's name.</p><p>Once inside, she dials one of the family driver's number and when he picks up, gives him the street and the shop's name. There are people to do her grocery now, but Lee won't just take advantage of the dry and air-conditioned store. The least she can do is by a snack bar or a water bottle.</p><p>Lee's making her way past the rice and beans, getting out of the way of a man with a milk box in one hand and a bread loaf in the other, when she takes notice of the ice cream freezer.</p><p>She quickly takes out her phone again and calls Mario. "You're not in surgery, right?"</p><p>"No," he chuckles. "Leaving in a bit actually. Did the dresses fit? Were they nice?"</p><p>"Duh. They were amazing. But now to important matters."</p><p>"I'm all ears."</p><p>"I'll buy some ice-cream. Are you in the mood for coffee-flavored, oh, or maybe for amarena cherry?"</p><p>"Pretty sure there is an inexhaustible quantity of amarena cherry ice-cream at home at all times."</p><p>"So coffee?" She puts aside a few of the family packs to see more flavors. "There are also, um, caramel swirl, and blueberry."</p><p>"Mhm. Your pick, I can't decide."</p><p>"Oh, very helpful."</p><p>"Hey, sorry."</p><p>"Just know I won't share my caramel goodness." Lee grabs a family pack anyway.</p><p>"Cold-hearted. I'll see you later."</p><p>"Love you, bye." She clicks her phone shut before he can respond. Slides the freezer's glass door shut. Pockets her phone and moves away from the freezer to find the cash-desk. Someone is passing the aisle behind her and Lee walks backwards into them.</p><p>"I'm so sorry!" A glass bottle hits the floor and breaks. Liquid hits the back of Lee's calves, she continues to apologize as a staff member approaches with a cleaning mop and a bucket.</p><p>"I'll pay for it." Lee turns to the person, who's looking at two pairs of shoes covered in wine. It's a blond woman around Lee's age, a bit shorter than her.</p><p>"No, please. It was my fault as much as yours." The woman lifts her graze and smiles politely. Lee's breath stutters and the ice-cream pack joins the broken bottle on the floor.</p><p>"Kristen?"</p><p>Confusion washes over the woman's, <em>Kristen's</em>, features. She looks just like her. The only differences are the lack of glasses and the blond hair up-do. Her eyebrows knot the same way Kristen's used to, the smile lines are identical, the eye color matches, the nose shape-</p><p>"I'm sorry?" The voice is not right, though. Or Lee is forgetting what Kristen used to sound like.</p><p>"You just-" Lee's words choke her on the way out, "reminded me of somebody. My mistake. Sorry."</p><p>The woman nods with understanding, a kind smile stretches over her face again. Lee can't bear to look at it any longer. Her gaze falls to the floor. "For that, too."</p><p>Lee crouches down to get the ice-cream. "Oh, don't worry." The woman joins her. Lee hadn't noticed, but there are other items on the floor: packed cheese, frozen chicken breasts, chestnuts. Luckily, none of these compromised by the fall as the wine has been. "It seems both of us are quite clumsy today."</p><p>Lee chuckles along with the woman, for lack of better thing to do, <em>hasn't recovered from the shock completely, if at all</em>, and helps her gather the items. They are dripping still and the clerk mopping the floor sends the two of them a glare.</p><p>"Do you happen to know where the wet napkins are?" Lee mumbles to the woman. She has to find out her name, it occurs to her without an apparent reason: "I'm Leslie, by the way."</p><p>"Nice meeting you, despite the mess." They reach the next aisle. Lee takes two packets of napkins. "I'm Isabella."</p><p>She extends her palm and Lee takes it, <em>despite the mess</em>. It's warm and sticky with cheap wine. Isabella's hold is firm, but not too much. And that hand-shake proves Lee is not hallucinating her, she's here and she's very much real.</p><p>Lee pays for her ice-cream, all the wet napkins, and Isabella's wine, she protests, but the fed-up clerk has Lee's card in hand and there's so much Isabella can do before it's all set and done.</p><p>She has brought an umbrella and she sheds Lee with it as the latter takes napkins out of their package. She holds the umbrella as Isabella cleans her hands and puts the napkins away in her already disgusting-looking plastic bag.</p><p>"Was there an occasion?" Lee asks as Isabella scrubs at the umbrella handle where they touched it with dirty hands. She hums a would-be-question. Lee clarifies. "For the wine."</p><p>"For grocery store wine? No," Isabella laughs. "If we're being honest you probably made me a favor."</p><p>Lee opens her mouth, despite not knowing what exactly to say, but a horn interrupts her. She turns around to see the car she called for. The driver wouldn't rush her in other circumstances, but parking is prohibited on this street.</p><p>Facing Isabella again, Lee notices the mild surprise in her expression. And as Lee walks back to the car, still facing Isabella, she tells her sincerely again: "I'm so sorry. And thank you for the umbrella."</p><p>"No problem really." The blonde woman smiles and waves her hand goodbye.</p><p>Lee follows Isabella's figure with her eyes through the raindrops on the window until the car takes a turn and she's gone in a split second. For the rest of time.</p><p>Lee is craving wine. A lot of it.</p><p> </p><p>"My father and I haven't always seen eye to eye." Completely opposite views on life, he could've worded it. Laughter fills the silence of Mario's rehearsed pause. He turns to Carmine.</p><p>"But I think, Dad, you'll agree that marrying Lee is the best decision I've ever made." What an irony: the decision means more to Carmine than it does to anyone else, and he's the only one unaware of that.</p><p>"Without a doubt." He nods authoritatively to his son and smiles proudly at Lee, his future daughter-in-law.</p><p>"A blind man could see it!" The actual daughter speaks up. Another round of laughter, some applause too. But neither her father nor her brother look at Sofia. Only Lee does, briefly.</p><p>Mario turns to his fiancée.</p><p>"And Lee. You're a doctor, a member of our city's police department." Around 75% of the guests know about either of these, at the very least. </p><p>"You're funny, compassionate and brilliant." Can't hurt to point it out to them. </p><p>"Despite insisting all dogs are boys and all cats are girls." Bullshit, but the guests laugh. </p><p>"It's hopeless, I've tried to correct her." Can't have her be too smart now, can we? </p><p>"I've loved you since the moment I saw you." Or ten years after meeting in College. This, hardly any of the guests know about, and if they did, well, it'd just seem like Mario have been pining on her for a decade. True love.</p><p> </p><p>"Lee. Congrats." Lee faces the woman congratulating her. Piercing eyes and a smug smile. "You look gorgeous. No surprise."</p><p>"Barbara. How did you-?"</p><p>"Get in? As a plus one!" Barbara points to her right, Lee half-turns and notices a dark-haired woman with a light-colored dress and a man, with bald spots poorly covered and a well-fitted blazer. Unsure which one Barbara meant, she lowers her voice and leans in a bit.</p><p>"You need to leave, right now."</p><p>"Can't we bury the hatchet? So I came at you with a knife, kidnapped you, whatever. I've forgiven you for beating me unconscious. I'd say we're even. But. You've already seen me in my wedding dress. And I'm <em>dying</em> to see you in yours."</p><p>Lee bites back the <em>Then die</em>, breathes out slowly and raises a finger to Barbara.</p><p>"You just stay right here, I'm gonna get someone."</p><p>"I'm leaving." She rolls her eyes. "Just wanted to ask. How did you do it?" </p><p>Barbara's voice has changed, it's dancing on the edge of sincere disbelief. It unnerves Lee. "Do what?" </p><p>"Move on like that. What's the secret for letting go of Jim Gordon? Did you go to some rehab center outside of Gotham or something? If so, hit me up with a brochure, will ya?"</p><p>"No. You're a big girl, it's high time you learn what's good for you and what isn't."</p><p>"Oh, no, that's not the psychiatrist in you talking. She knows it can happen to everyone. It keeps happening. Jim's darkness and light, who haven't they managed to draw in?"</p><p>"I suppose, the secret is to focus on your own inner war, and not Jim Gordon's."</p><p>"Huh. Noted. Though, I can't help but think, having the man of the year falling for you made it all the easier. What a lucky gal you are, Lee, a doctor, an honest, good fellow from a powerful, rich family. It's almost ridiculous, just how <em>lucky</em> you got."</p><p>Lee narrows her eyes.</p><p>"Good evening," a palm touches her forearm. She's still focused on Barbara as Mario envelopes her to his side.</p><p>"To you as well, Mr.- Dr. Falcone, sorry." <em>Really? Two slip-ups in a single sentence.</em></p><p>"It's Calvi, actually," Mario shakes hands with Barbara while Lee stares daggers into her.</p><p>"Barbara Kean. How come?"</p><p>"After my late mother's side of the family." If Barbara had been a better actress she would have faked some sympathy at the statement, but knowing her personal story with parental death...</p><p>Instead, she coos and whispers to Lee as if they're close friends: "Oh, such a respectful gentleman. Perfect fit for dear Lee. I wish you both all the best!"</p><p>A wink and she's gone. Mario opens his mouth but Lee asks: "Don't, okay? She doesn't matter,  I promise."</p><p>"Alright," he plants a brief kiss on her forehead. "Shouldn't I see to it that she's escorted out?"</p><p>"You're a gift, honey."</p><p> </p><p>Lee spends the rest of the night of her engagement party eyeing the crowd for criminally insane exes of exes. She hates to admit, a couple of blondes catch her eye, but not because they resemble the one and only Barbara Kean. A redhead readjusts her glasses by the buffet table and Lee almost walks into a champagne tray.</p><p> </p><p>Oswald Cobblepot shakes Mario's hand enthusiastically. Warm, but firm. His left palm covering Mario's, but the grip of his right one is vice. Mario feels a bit nauseous, thinking about how many deaths these very hands have caused. But he doesn't let it show in his smile.</p><p>"Congratulations, my friend! I wish you and Dr. Thompkins many happy years ahead of you." They are not friends, Mario can count the times he has seen the man in the flesh on the fingers of a single hand, but he has heard plenty about him and he's sure Cobblepot has found a way to find everything that there is to be known about Mario, well before he set foot in his office for the first time.</p><p>Monitoring his speech pattern, Mario can tell Cobblepot uses the direct address very liberally anyway. Uses it while speaking with former rivals (Mario's father), with acquaintances (Mario himself), with strangers (that one man by the buffet). It is as much an easy technique for establishing familiarity that simply isn't there as it is alienating people from their personality in relation to him.</p><p>"Thank you! And congratulations to you too. For the election."</p><p>Cobblepot lets out a bashful sound, entirely fake. The corners of his stoic Chief of Staff's mouth tug upwards at the commendation. It seems he can't help the smirk, judging from the extremely uncomfortable expressions he has been wearing for the better part of the evening: the briefest of eye contacts and a myriad of the widest closed-lipped smiles.</p><p>"Oswald has always had great ambition," Mario's father walks up to the three of them from behind Cobblepot and claps him firmly on the shoulder. Nygma startles visibly and it's as if his throat has grown intolerable towards his Adam's Apple.</p><p>"And love!" Cobblepot clasps Mario's father's hand in a handshake too, "For our great City!"</p><p>Mario joins his toast, clinking his glass with Nygma's, held in a slightly shaking hand, as <em>the two old friends</em> chat along.</p><p> </p><p>Mario exits his en-suite bathroom with his pyjamas sticking to his slightly damp skin. All lights in the room, except his bed lamp, are turned off and the king-sized bed has already been separated in two. Lee is already in her bed, covered in a blanket and facing away from Mario's part of the bedroom. From the looks of it, she's not asleep, curled on herself unlike she usually is when relaxed. Her breathing, as far as Mario can see, is way quicker than it would be, too. </p><p>He goes to check the door, it's already locked. The windows are closed, the blinds shut. Mario goes to his bed and gets under the covers. As he's about to turn the last light off, Lee sighs and turns to lay on her back. Not asleep indeed. She throws her arm over her eyes and Mario clicks the lamp off.</p><p>"Restless?" He chuckles, to which she groans. "Hey, you feeling alright?"</p><p>"Yeah, just... I guess I've had a bit too much coffee ice-cream before bed tonight. Don't worry."</p><p>Mario is pretty certain it was another flavor, but he says nothing.</p><p> </p><p>Ed knocks twice on the slightly open door. "Oswald?"</p><p>"Yes? Come on in." Oswald is fixing his tie, the burgundy one, when Ed enters the room. He receives a smile from Oswald's reflection in the mirror.</p><p>"Do you have, um, plans for the rest of the day." It's only 12:30 am and Ed half-expects the other man to point out most of the day is ahead of them, but Oswald instead leans in closer to the mirror and applies mascara to his eyelashes.</p><p>"Being the mayor, I'm rarely <em>not</em> busy." He puts the tube in a black dressing-bag and turns to face Ed. "Either way, what do you have in mind?"</p><p>Ed's palms find his pockets. The casual gesture leads him to the very subject of this conversation. He tries not to crumple the paper with his fist.</p><p>"I've bought tickets." Oswald raises an eyebrow, Ed clears his throat. "For an art exhibition this evening. And since the last time I ever attended one, it was so I could steal, I thought it'd be nice to-"</p><p>"Such a lovely thought, my friend!" Oswald is laughing a bit, probably at the stealing detail, when he puts his hands on Ed's shoulders. Vibrant smile in place. "Just phone Tarquin to let him know and change my schedule, will you?"</p><p>He carries on to the umbrella rack. Only his favorites are up in his room. Where is he-</p><p>"I'm heading out now." With a selected umbrella in hand, he is all ready to go. If only Ed wasn't standing on his way to the door.</p><p>"Where to?" He steps aside and then fallows Oswald down the stairs, looking at his feet more so than at his own.</p><p>"Boooss?" Zsasz's voice rings from somewhere near the front door. Oswald raises his, too. Shouts a "Wait in the car, Victor."</p><p>Ed doesn't want to repeat his question, but he's short from doing just that.</p><p>"The Falcone manor."</p><p>"Oh." Ed misses a step, takes two stairs in one go. "But I need to freshen up a bit." </p><p>He's mentally mapping out the fastest route to his room, he'd leave Oswald here, take the stairs three at a time, run past Oswald's room, reach his door. A change of shirt will have to be enough, that one emerald tie-</p><p>"There's no need for you to come."</p><p>"But, but they-"</p><p>"Don't be like that, I can handle them myself for a lunch." Oswald doesn't turn, but his head tilts just so to the side. He's rolling his eyes, Ed knows it.</p><p>"I know, of course, but wouldn't it be wiser not to go in alone."</p><p>"I won't be completely-"</p><p>Oswald's town car drives by the window, the driver runs behind it, throwing curses at whoever is behind the wheel, Ed has an idea. It's proven correct when a leather-clad arm is extended over the car window. Oswald rubs at his temples.</p><p>"Yeah, because Zsasz will be there." And just that is a stab shaped like 'him and not you' right at Ed's, um, ego, perhaps. It doesn't string any less because he was the one to inflict it.</p><p>"Zsasz is an assassin. A bodyguard, if you will. That's why I'm bringing him." It's probably as much a power move as anything else. Zsasz used to be theirs but is now Oswald's. He walks in their castle with their knight waving his flag. But what if Zsasz is loyal to them, Oswald would end up surrounded-</p><p>"Hey, look, I'm going to be late if I don't leave right about now." He turns to face Ed, places both his hands on his forearms for intent, "And I get it. You're cautious, not without reason. But I've got this. It's far too early for them to do anything even if they wanted to."</p><p>"I'd still feel better if I could be by your side."</p><p>"Maybe next time."</p><p>"You intend there to be a next time?" He is already facing away from Ed and reaching for the doorknob.</p><p>"I'll see you tonight." Oswald's smile is audible in his voice. He doesn't look over his shoulder when he adds: "Order a new suit if you feel like it."</p><p>A tailored suit due for mere hours after it's been ordered would cost twice its price and Oswald <em>knows</em> it. It's obviously as much a way to make it up to Ed as it is to toot his own horn because he can afford it. Ed doesn't pull a face. Until he remembers he's supposed to go and talk to Tarquin.</p><p> </p><p>"But doctor-patient confidentiality-"</p><p>"I'm the mayor, Mario, I have by far more important matters to store in my memory than some citizen's freak accident. But I understand, perhaps you don't feel like you can trust me."</p><p>"No, it's nothing personal-"</p><p>"You are highly ethical in your profession, that's admirable... And the two of us haven't known each other for that long, it's-"</p><p>"How about I only <em>hint</em> about my most unusual case so far?" </p><p>Mario's sister makes her re-entrance at that, carrying the refills. Three cups of tea with some whiskey. The surprised look vanishes from her features as she takes her seat. She will not join in on the conversation, for now, as he sees it. And he doesn't have any more time to lose on her as he desperately searches his memory for a good example to give Oswald. Why does he even feel the need to-</p><p>"Don't think anything could surprise me," Oswald's demeanor has also changed, an open stance, one hand having reached for the cup, surely after thanking Sofia in some way, fingers only playing along the porcelain rim, "but go ahead and try, <em>Dr. Calvi</em>."</p><p>A true challenge, considering the fact his brain is trying to convince him the single case he's been given here is stitching up Jim Gordon's head.</p><p>"A- a glitter pen. A nose. Both broken."</p><p>"What color?" Oswald's immediate reaction has Sofia giggling, that or Mario's on-the-spot lie. </p><p>"Sorry?"</p><p>"The pen."</p><p>"Um, red I think."</p><p>"Hah! An ironic brute." His collocutors share a laugh. Victor Zsasz smirks from a foot away.</p><p>"It was a bit hard to tell." Mario keeps muttering uselessly.</p><p>"Figured."</p><p>A silence stretches after the laughing has died down and Oswald, flipping his watch open, exclaims: "Oh, what time it is, already? Don't want to overstay my welcome."</p><p>Everybody is quick on their feet and heading at the door despite the Falcone siblings' insistence that their guest should keep gracing them with his company. </p><p>"No, you haven't." Mario and Sofia both assure him at the same time. She is, of course, more eloquent: "That would be ridiculous. Besides, you haven't even finished your drink yet."</p><p>"I would love to, Sofia, but there is a very special art exhibition that awaits me." He takes her hand, plants a kiss on her glove. Zsasz looks disconcerted at the act. Then Oswald reaches for Mario's hand. "And Mario, your secret is forever safe with me."</p><p>He winks and Mario lets out a genuine laugh as they shake on it, "Wouldn't expect less of you."</p><p>"I had a great time, hope to hear again from you soon."</p><p>"We need to keep in touch. It's been a great pleasure," Sofia carries on as Mario wonders if he should offer Oswald's assassin (Oswald's bodyguard?) a handshake too.</p><p>He doesn't in the end when after all the sweet talk and goodbyes they leave. Mario aims for a laical wave with one hand, the other tucked in his pocket, a TV-esque picture of a rich idiot who may or may not be a douchebag.</p><p>"I want in on the scheme, brother dearest." Sofia's voice drops to the conspiratorial tone, completely out of harmony with her appearance - of a polite lady parting with their guest, the big glass doors separating them.</p><p>"What scheme?"</p><p>"To take back the crown, I bet."She smirks. A momentary visual slip of the facade.</p><p>"Just. Being. Friendly." He spins around and walks right past her.</p><p>"Oh, please." </p><p>"To think you of all people would oppose to having a friend with such an influential position."</p><p>"Kingpin of the underworld?"</p><p>"The mayor."</p><p> </p><p>Lee is struggling with her luggage when he gets upstairs. Sitting on top of the suitcase to zip it up. He looks around to see if there's anything he can do for her. "Hey, why didn't you call me up to help you? Will you be late?"</p><p>"You had a guest." That could have sounded pissed if any other woman had directed it at him. Lee reaches for her coat, but he takes it from the bed, holding it up behind her as she puts it on. "Don't worry, I'm ready."</p><p>He takes the suitcase downstairs as she orders her ride. </p><p>"A taxi?"</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"We have, like, family drivers, Lee."</p><p>"Oh. That's- right. A force of habit I guess."</p><p>Mario's about to offer himself for a driver when he recalls the drink he had. He hums instead.</p><p>The hug she gives him as a goodbye is rushed, but he returns it with warmth.</p><p>"Leaving yet for that conference you had, Lee?" Mario's father speaks up from the far side of the vestibule. Neither of them had heard him closing in.</p><p>"Ah, yes. Unfortunately, it's in this hour that was most suitable for my schedule, with work and all-"</p><p>"Have a safe journey then. And we'll be expecting you back soon."</p><p>He looks pale to Mario. "Dad, are you feeling alright?"</p><p>"Part with your woman now instead of worrying about me, you do it far too often anyway," he chuckles and retreats, leaving them alone.</p><p>Yet Mario leans down and kisses Lee on the lips, her palm placed on his cheek. </p><p>"Go check up on him." She smiles, a bit pitiful, but mostly understanding.</p><p> </p><p>The taxi driver turns off the engine. Lee looks at the station, not too many people seem to be around, with any luck most of them will take off soon. </p><p>"4,25£." Says the driver, the same number shines in red from the taxi meter. Lee reaches for the door handle, not her purse.</p><p>"Park on the other side, will you? And don't turn this off." </p><p>The night air is remarkably cooler than the one in the cab. Lee strides to the rails and the ticket office, it's very strange without a suitcase in hand. She shouldn't have left it in the cab, now she looks out of place. <em>Just pretend you're waiting for someone to get off a train, relax.</em> A loud noise and red lights signal one approaching.</p><p>Lee walks to the side, away from the rails and closer to a kiosk. Now she takes out her wallet. Her fingers tremble a bit as she places a ten-dollar bill on the counter and then less so as she closes them around a cigarette pack and a lighter. For the latter, she could have asked a stranger, but she should minimize her human interaction as much as possible.</p><p>Lee's thumb twinges with a bit of pain as she lights a cigarette, she hasn't done this for nearly fifteen years. The train, her ride, takes off, the thudum-dum-thudum rhythm of its departure syncs with Lee's heartbeat.</p><p>Thudum-dum.</p><p>Inhale, exhale. </p><p>White smoke in the wind. Thudum-dum.</p><p>Drop the cigarette, stomp on it. </p><p>Ash on concrete. Thudum-dum-thudum.</p><p>Enter the ticket office, don't act weird, buy a new ticket, exit the ticket office. </p><p>Door bells. Thudum-dum-thudum-dum.</p><p>Get out and back in the cab. The radio station's music hour helps Lee get rid of the train rhythm. She breathes. There are two hours before she ought to be back here. The driver starts the engine.</p><p>He taps his fingers on the wheel with the familiarity of a typical night shift. There is some unspoken code for the situation, Lee doesn't know yet, but the driver does. He knows he's never going to tell anyone about this, he knows he won't be asking questions, he knows he'll return home tonight with a week's worth of cash.</p><p>Lee doesn't even have to ask for this, it's a plain obvious course of action. She does anyway, because she's still a bit out of it, and because all of this is painfully not her.</p><p>So she keeps saying when he's supposed to take a turn. She gets the idea he has figured out where they're headed, long before they reach the gates. </p><p>"It'd be easier to get in on the side of the hill." The driver murmurs. Lee meets his eyes in the rearview mirror and nods.</p><p>The cab's headlights shine reflects off the metal letters: <em>Gotham Cemetery</em>.</p><p>They come to a stop again near the iron fence. The driver gets out of the car with Lee to give her the suitcase from the trunk. She takes her spare purse out of it, puts her leather gloves back on. The driver is leaning on the bonnet but stirs when she walks past him to the fence. He gets ready to help her over it.</p><p>"What's your name?" She gestures to him to wait a moment. Takes out a package of latex gloves and gives him a pair. </p><p>"Tobias." The driver smiles as he says it.</p><p>"Tobias, if you would stay here and watch out?"</p><p>"Yeah, but..." He looks pointedly at the railing fence.</p><p>"Right. I might need a little help."</p><p>Tobias' legs bend a bit at the knees, right one in front of the other, he puts both his hands, palms up, on that knee. Lee puts her hands on his shoulders, her foot on his palm. He lifts her up and she climbs her way up and over the fence. </p><p>"Now, I watch out." Tobias gives a crooked smile and Lee thinks it's the easiest thing for him to call the police now. She's trapped in the cemetery she <em>broke into</em>. But she can't ponder on that, she has to believe one can buy a taxi driver's loyalty, and she doesn't have much time.</p><p>Lee doesn't let herself look at the photo on the tomb, knowing she won't be able to stop the tears if she does. Instead, she begins digging, stealing only glimpses at the words on it.</p><p>
  <em>Gone too soon...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>...Beloved...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Forever in our hearts...</em>
</p><p>For how long Lee keeps digging, she doesn't know, and hardly cares. As if the first time she takes a breath, and a break, is when she reaches the coffin. She doesn't know what she'll do if it's empty, if she'll feel hope or terror, if she'll be able to let her go now, or ever.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. We're chasing shadows of a feeling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lee descents deeper into the mystery of the Kristen-lookalike. It's not long before her desperation causes her to cross boundaries.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The moment Jim reaches his floor, he's very thankful Mark The Bartender refused his offer to show him his shithole of an apartment. There is a bulky thug-looking man standing right next to his door, the lock and handle are broken and discarded on the floor.</p><p>Jim's temples flare and not because of his one too many drinks that night. The thug all but man-handles him inside, after roughly patting him down and throwing all his weapons down the stairs. Jim sobers up considerably.</p><p>His apartment is trashed but isn't looking all that worse than it did when he left it. There are more thugs inside, some are leaning on his furniture, one on the kitchen counter, another on the back of a chair. The others are standing around the sofa, guns in hands, alert. Someone is sitting on the sofa, but Jim can't see who in the dim light and in between all the giant backs of the men around.</p><p>The thug from the door pushes him closer. One of the standing thugs aims his gun at Jim as the one closest to him lights the table lamp.</p><p>The door thug kicks an armchair around until it's in front of the sofa and pushes Jim in it. Two heavy palms on his shoulders held him down there. It makes him hot under the collar.</p><p>"Jim."</p><p>He meets Don Falcone's steel eyes.</p><p>"Carmine."</p><p>"You must have figured out the reason I'm here?" </p><p>Probably in regards to the Indian Hill monsters, wouldn't be the first time Falcone was involved with it. Or maybe it's because of Mooney, or Penguin. Could be both. Her break out did lead to his election, could be chance, or it could be-</p><p>The thug's palms dig into Jim's shoulders. Hard. He shakes his head 'no'. Carmine clicks his tongue, but smiles politely. Gestures to one of the standing thugs and is handed a cigar.</p><p>It's far from the first time Jim ponders on the idea that Penguin is ganging up since the Falcones came back to the city. Not that he could get any more power than he currently possesses. What is Falcone's contra-attack, though? Jim is not the only bounty hunter out there, but he's arguably the most successful one. This all could be the prelude of a massive bribe on Carmine's side, God knows he has the money to afford an army of freaks. <em>Shit.</em> Jim is not capturing manpower for him, nevermind the amount of cash.</p><p>"You know, Jim, I am a family person."</p><p> </p><p>Mario finds Sofia in the resting room, reading in one of the white armchairs. To his "Hi." she responds with a low hum and not even a glance.</p><p>"Do you want to come with me to the van Dahl manor?"</p><p>To this she raises a perfectly penciled eyebrow, eyes still glued to the page. Then, she lets out a huff of breath, shakes her head, and looks up at him. Mario is puzzled with whether his sister's reaction was to his question or because of the text in front of her.</p><p>"Don't you think it'd be a bit weird with me in there?"</p><p>"No? Why would it be?"</p><p>Sofia sighs, turns a page.</p><p>"Well, for starters, bringing your sister along, sort of mixes the signals you have been giving Cobblepot so far." The words roll out of her mouth smoothly enough despite that Mario can see her eyes moving left and right lines of words he cannot see.</p><p>"What- what signals?"</p><p>"That you wouldn't mind a threesome."</p><p>"Wha- Sofia!?"</p><p>"What." Not even a question. Her eyes flick to the next page.</p><p>"That's not at all what I'm trying to-"</p><p>"Then what?" The book is snapped closed, one finger between the pages to mark her place. Sofia's eyes are on him: <em>Now, you're interesting</em>. He hates it when she does that. "You're not trying to play him, you're not trying to fuck him. What are you trying to do?"</p><p>He takes a calming breath, looks away and through the window.</p><p>"Not that hard to grasp but: you can want other things with people besides manipulating and sleeping with them."</p><p>"Noted." To the venom that slipped in his tone, Sofia responds with feigned boredom. She returns to her book, but not after long clicks her tongue. "And what do you want out of the freak? Do you even know? Or are you just taking Dad's 'Get along for my sake.' too seriously?"</p><p>"If you didn't want to come, you could have said just that."</p><p>"Oh, but I want to! Nothing gives me more joy than entertaining these that have taken what's rightfully ours."</p><p>He falls in defiance in the armchair in front of hers. Sofia raises the book to her eye level, a barrier between them. Apparently not a solid enough one. At a minute's notice, she stands up and heads out of the room in a manner not unlike that of a child. </p><p>Mario picks up the abandoned book.</p><p>Sun Tzu, <em>The Art of War</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The Falcone siblings are fine-cultured and with various interests which makes them perfectly entertaining guests. If Ed wasn't paying such close attention, closest than ever, even he would have been convinced they're actually enjoying themselves in Oswald's company.</p><p>He can't fault them. It's only natural to feel intimidated by the new king of the underworld, especially when your father has been the king, and Oswald had risen from the very bottom. And a rock bottom, that is.</p><p>When you feel intimidated there are two courses of action: confront or bend the knee. They are currently in no position to get rid of Oswald and survive the power vacuum that would follow. Their chances with either are closer to the minimum. What they are now is just a rich family with a history, but without nearly enough resources, alliances, <em>power</em>. </p><p>Not that it stops Oswald from checking in on old Falcone favorites and supporters weekly, from doubling his security, from, probably, sleeping with one eye open. Ed suspects what's frustrating him more than anything else is that the Falcones don't take any steps in the wrong direction. Surely, they know what would follow. Oswald is, more or less, waiting for them to try and lay a finger on him, so he's justified in biting the entire hand off.</p><p>Mario's big doctor hands are careful around a teacup, small plate, and smaller handle, letting no more than a single finger in. The finger in question looks almost orange against the porcelain.</p><p>Sofia's wearing white gloves, the satin is pleasant to the touch, but Ed suspects she's trying to find dirt. Looking for dust on her fingertips after she lets her hand run down an old cabinet, a shelf, a window sill. It's either that or she wants to eliminate any skin on skin contact with them.</p><p>"Why, did you say, Lee couldn't make it?" Oswald asks them like he's genuinely missing her company. As if just now, after roughly two hours of sweet talk, he feels like her absence is relevant to the good time they're having.</p><p>"She had to unpack after her conference," Mario explains like he hasn't already, back at the door. "And catch up on some work."</p><p>"And nap," Sofia adds. They all laugh. "These midnight trains really messed up her sleep schedule."</p><p>Ed is pretty sure she wasn't dying to see him. </p><p> </p><p>Lee logs in the GCPD's system from home. In bed with her personal laptop, she looks for this Isabella woman. She doesn't have a criminal record. Lee should be relieved.</p><p>She checks each and every person under the Isabella name tag anyway. Twice. Thrice.</p><p>Runs downstairs to open up a bottle of wine. Brings a glass, but drinks straight from the bottle as she clicks on Kristen Kringle's file.</p><p>Lee wishes so bad she needed glasses, so she could take them off now. Kristen is smiling on her picture, pink lipstick, white teeth, a ginger curl over thick glasses frames. For the better part of the last hour, or has it been two, three, Lee has managed to purge the images of Kristen, as she is now. </p><p>Into what she was made to be, a shadow of a person, stripped off, chopped up, torn apart, but collected. Yet what good does it bring, when she's nearly unrecognizable. And not because of the decomposition. The moment Lee's eyes fell to her remains, she saw her alive, saw her pink and struggling, blue and stiff, saw her taken apart and shoved in boxes. Then. Then, rotting.</p><p>Lee's eyes burn. She gulps down more wine before the tears have the chance to roll out. For a long time, Lee thought she had cried herself completely dry.</p><p>Back to that night when she got the call. It's a long way from town to the forest, Lee stayed behind. Three days before her transfer. To Hell with Atlanta. She locked the door and trashed the M.E. lab. Red, red, everything she saw was red. Found Edward's locker and kicked its door in. Broke a couple of nails along the way.</p><p>The ground was frozen, of course. Two shovel handles were fractured before they could even reach the hunter, let alone dig him up. Plenty of time for Lee to stomp outside, calm down. Cool down. Snowflakes melted against her heated cheeks. She didn't bother with a coat. Not after long, Josie Mac, bless her heart, brought her a scarf. Only then, rage made room for sorrow.</p><p>Lee cried until she couldn't anymore. She wept and sobbed, and the snowfall came to a stop. Lee washed her face and hands, and there was a towel waiting for her. Her eyes were swollen, but dry. The last tears, for that day, that shift, at least, were already shed.</p><p>From then on she was a professional. She'd free Kristen, what's left of her, from that dirty box, would lay her out on the table. Lee'd be on autopilot: gather evidence, examine the bones, clean the skin tissues. Determine the cause of death. </p><p>Manual strangulation...</p><p>Lee thinks of Kristen's bones as she saw them the other night and dries her cheeks. Thinks of the skin of Isabella's face flushing in the cold and puts the wine away.</p><p>She logs in Gotham General's archives. With Mario's data. Something in her chest knots tight and unpleasant. A person in Gotham that has never been a witness, a victim, or a suspect for a crime is rare enough to be suspicious. Having a dead person's face only adds to it. Isabella has a file in these archives, thank God. Lee doesn't spare much time for anticipation as a quick search proves her fears that nothing, from listed family members to blood type, links one Isabella Flynn to Lee's late friend.</p><p>Frustrated as she may be, Lee continues to examine the woman's file until she stumbles upon prescriptions for sleeping and anxiety pills. This is too much. Lee closes the laptop, feels dirty from head to toe for invading the privacy of this stranger, and to that degree. She takes the bottle and pours herself a full glass.</p><p>Covers up her tracks as best as she can. Still, she has this nearly unbridled urge to push the half-full wineglass over the laptop and call it a day.</p><p> </p><p>Going to the Sirens is not the best idea Jim has ever had, but the bar is too quiet and the apartment is out of the question. He needs some noise to distract him. With little luck, Barbara won't even be there. With little less luck, she will and she'd have a rumor-slash-lead on a monster, and he'd have to drain his overpriced drink in one go and make for the door to chase and hunt it down.</p><p>Jim has never been lucky.</p><p>"What are you drinking tonight, Jimmy?" Barbara twirls around him and sits on the closest bar stool. That way she's taller than him, standing, leaning on the bar. </p><p>Jim pretends not to notice her, but after a beat offers an unhelpful "Alcohol."</p><p>Barbara scoffs and shakes her head. There is still some humor in her.</p><p>"One neat double whiskey." The bartender announces and Jim hands him the cash and tip.</p><p>"A tall vodka cranberry for me." Her voice carries a smug note. Jim brings the drink to his nose and then takes a sip. Barbara rests her elbows on the bar counter. "I don't have any new information if that's what you're looking for."</p><p>"It's not."</p><p>"What's up with you? In a bad mood? I mean, worse than usual mood."</p><p>The bartender brings her her drink as well and Jim is sure she winks at the guy when she takes a sip from it. Barbara smacks her lips and lets out a delighted hum, that loses its enthusiasm when her gaze falls back on Jim.</p><p>"Gee, you look- you look right about how I felt when I was getting over you. Hey, don't look at me like that." She pats the stool's seat next to her. And Jim sits on it, just because standing has become exhausting.</p><p>"Which time?" he offers with a weak smile.</p><p>"Oh, fuck you!" She hits his arm jokingly. Right on a bruise, left either by monsters or thugs. Even he isn't certain.</p><p>Around ten minutes pass, Jim sipping from his drink and listening on Barbara's flirt with the bartender between the songs' choirs, before she speaks to Jim again.</p><p>"Look, if you feel down just because Lee is marrying Dictor Charming-"</p><p>"God, why does everyone have to bring this up?"</p><p>Barbara doesn't tell him to cool off, just echoes: "Everyone?"</p><p>"I'm over her, I may not be getting married but..."</p><p>Jim realizes he's talking to one of his ex fiancees about the other. Barbara doesn't utter a word, simply listening. There's a look on her face that betrays her pity. Jim tries to ignore it, thinks briefly about all the ways the two of them have changed and finds... <em>Hope?</em></p><p>"Or maybe I wasn't right for you, and for Lee." He looks away, spots Galavan and Gilzean just now, on a small table in the far end of the bar, with a bottle of whiskey, with only two glasses. "Or both of you weren't right for me, I don't know."</p><p>"Your point being?" Barbara speaks with less than half her attention on him. Jim studies her as she looks at them, uncharacteristically quiet aching all over her face for such a loud woman. He spears another gaze towards her partners' table. They are chuckling, taking turns of talking into the other's ear. </p><p>"Life goes on. So do I." Jim touches Barbara on the elbow and she gives him half a smile.</p><p> </p><p>There's an address in the medical file and it's not far from where the grocery store is, but Lee had already figured Isabella must be living in that neighborhood. Question is, where does she work. Because if Lee decides she wants to meet her again, and really she shouldn't even consider it, but she can't just forget a woman that looks exactly like Kristen exists, running into Isabella at her workplace would be much less weird than in front of her home. Unless Isabella works in a factory or somewhere else where Lee couldn't get in.</p><p>Lee hates herself, but she does her own variation of a stakeout. With dark sunglasses and a hat low on her head, she sits in one of the less fancy town cars in front of Isabella's building.</p><p>She gets there at five to six and swears to herself she won't stay there a second past ten. That time span covers all possible morning shifts, with the exception of anything especially early. Lee probably would have gone in five thirty, if she could without getting an odd look from Mario. </p><p>Part of her hopes Isabella will, for whatever reason, be it a part-time job, a day off or unemployment, <em>not</em> show up. Will not exit this building and head to wherever she works. </p><p>Lee soon, not too soon (7:45 am), realizes just how small that part of her actually is. Very small. Miniature. Isabella sets foot outside and Lee's heart does leaps in her chest. She slips down in the driver seat, scared she may be seen, ashamed she put herself in the position at all, </p><p>Her cheeks burn, guilt and indignity tight in her stomach and throat, but adrenaline pushes at it all, drives it around and makes it thinner, mud swept away in the stream. The moment Isabella's form disappears around the corner, Lee starts the engine.</p>
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